Neverquest – Part 145

Characters: Lord Dartemus, Frankie, the entire Bucket Brigade, and ???
Location: The sewers under Felwinter
Time: Day 5 – Morning

Sputtering water from his beard and lips, Lord Dartemus grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to shore. It wasn’t so much a sandy shore, like at a beach, but a hard slab of cement and unforgiving rock that stood a couple of inches above the water level. There, he threw the boy down and began with the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

“Are you sure you don’t want us doing that?” one of the Bucket Brigade natives asked. “We’re all fully qualified in underwater rescue.”

“Quiet, man, it’s working!”

After another few blows, sewer water trickled from Frankie’s lips and he began coughing. The world was blurry, but slowly coming into view.

Dartemus lifted his head. “Boy! …Boy, can you hear me?”

“You…” Frankie whispered.

“I…I, what? Speak to me, boy! Show me a sign of life.”

“Your whiskers are tickling me.”

“He’s alive!” Dartemus cried, wrapping his arms around Frankie. “I knew you’d pull through, boy. How are you feeling?”

Frankie’s face was as green as the water he had been pulled from. “Rather…sick. That was nothing like the rides at the water park.”

“Aye…” Dartemus helped the boy to his feet. “She had no right to do that to us. The princess has forgotten what it means to be royalty.”

“Well, she royally flushed us.”

“Touché, boy. Touché.” He waved his hand. “Somebody get this boy a towel. He’s freezing.”

One of the natives handed Frankie his loincloth to dry off. Frankie took one look at him and quickly handed it back.

“You keep it,” he said. “You…need it more than me.”

“Well, we’re under the city of Felwinter now,” Dartemus said, looking around. Although most of what he saw was shrouded in darkness, there were a few patches of light where sewer drains and cracks had formed in the ceiling high above. Long, thin threads of light streamed downward, snaking through a series of wooden beams and dust, and winked across the surface of the murky water. “…This is the single most complex aqueduct system in the world today. It was built by slaves after the War of Sorena to honor the new Queen, who gave all Men a choice between labor or death.”

“I think death would be better than this,” Frankie said.

“Many felt the same way. Unfortunately, it will always be the subservient ones who live to procreate. In time, you’ll end up with a society of only slaves. That’s how our freedom has been stripped over the years.”

“But…we can’t all be slaves.”

“No…” Dartemus ran his hand along the wall, admiring the craftsmanship. “You see, in their arrogance, Women made one mistake. To become a slave means to become very proficient in what you do. While Women scorned them, our ancestors became very good at working with their hands, at building and engineering. We became strong, as well as smart, and learned how to survive. In time, Men were able to escape and build their own civilization using the skills they had learned as slaves. That’s how Penee began.”

“I always thought Men became strong because we were the hunters and provided for the Women…”

Dartemus raised an eyebrow. “What world were you born in, boy?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Not exactly…”

“What are you then, boy? You’re not from Penee.”

“No, sir.”

“Are you a servant?”

“Well, my sister makes me do her laundry sometimes.”

“Ah, a pet…” Dartemus nodded. “Well, you’re safe from your sister now. She doesn’t own you anymore.”

“But I like my sister. She’s mean to me sometimes, but—”

“She’s no good. None of them are.” He put his hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “Trust me, boy. When you get to be my age—if you live to be my age—you’ll understand. We can’t trust Women. Their own princess tried to do away with us. Their system is corrupt, and so are their people.”

“But what about Gena? She gave me cake…”

“Gena tried to kill Isabella and I’m almost sorry she failed. Until the real Queen returns to the throne, there’s no telling what kind of evils that brat has in store for the world.” He motioned for the Bucket Brigade to stop drinking the water and join him. “But that’s no longer our problem. Right now, we need to focus on getting out of these sewers and starting our journey back to Penee. Our people need us.”

“You know this land better than all of us,” the old man said. “We will follow you until the end.”

“Good. Now, in addition to the working sewer system, our ancestors built many secret passageways down here that Men could use to navigate around the city without being seen by the Women of the time. This was many hundreds of years ago, but I’m sure some of the passages are still operational…”

“Do we just start walking then?” Frankie asked.

“I guess so… But stay close to me. There are rats in these sewers that would love nothing more than to snack on something that hasn’t already been digested.”

“Well, that’s comforting.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Women have been the common enemies of Men and rats for centuries.”

“That doesn’t really help me any.”

“Aye…” Dartemus’ face went as dark as the tunnel ahead. “Me neither.”

They started marching in a single file line, with Dartemus leading the pack and Frankie and the old man on either side of him. Their shadows, long and dark fangs on the wall, followed them through the weaving caverns, and nobody said a word. That’s why they were startled when they heard voices coming their way.

The voices began as indiscernible whispers—echoes, even—but now they were sure of it. They weren’t alone in these sewers.

“Halt,” Dartemus said, putting a hand on Frankie’s chest. The entire Bucket Brigade stopped as quickly as the wind.

They all listened.

There were the voices again. They were closer now.

“Could be demons,” the old man whispered.

“There are no demons in the sewers, you coot.”

With the nimbleness of a chipmunk, Frankie ducked under Dartemus’ arm ad ran forward. “I’ll go check it out.”

“What are you doing, boy!?”

“I think I recognize those voices.”

Dartemus made a swipe for him, but it was too dark to see and he missed.

The old man chuckled softly. “He has your spunk.”

“And my lack of common sense in dangerous situations,” Dartemus muttered before turning around. The members of the Bucket Brigade were encased in darkness, but he pointed to the largest, most foreboding figure—a dark-skinned native with a glowing red scar running from the rim of his eye to the corner of his lip—and gestured him forward. “What’s your name, soldier?”

“Cid.”

“Alright, Cid. Let’s go.” He nodded his head in the direction Frankie had disappeared. “You too, old man.”

Using what little light they had to see, the three of them caught up to Frankie just as he was rounding the corner up ahead. They tried to pull him back, but it was too late. Another group of figures was coming right for them. In fact, the figures were already upon them, and they collided.

There was a brief struggle for a moment. Each of the shadowy figures—there were four of them total—had crashed into a different member of the Bucket Brigade. They fought for the upper hand, but it didn’t last long.

“Stop it!” Frankie cried. He pinned the shoulders of his opponent against the wall.

The opponent kicked his feet. “Don’t make me hurt you! I have a flute and I know how to play it.”

“It’s me—Frankie!”

One of the other shadowy figures stopped fighting. “What?”

Cid knocked him to the ground.

“Dude!”

“Hold ON!” Dartemus commanded. After a few more blows and some heavy breathing, everybody lowered their weapons. Then he carefully uncurled his fists and squinted at his opponent in the darkness. “…Who are you people?”

“Dude, who are you people?” the figure on the ground demanded. “You almost killed us!”

“Should I finish him off?” Cid asked.

“Dude!”

“There will be no killing here,” Dartemus said. “These Men are obviously not our enemies.”

“Then why the hell did you attack us!?”

“You attacked us.”

“We did no such thing,” Dartemus’ opponent said.

“Maybe we’re all just a little jumpy then. We did not expect to have company down here.”

“Neither did we,” the figure on the ground muttered as he crawled to his feet. “We’ve been trapped in this shithole for days.”

“I wondered what happened to you guys,” Frankie said.

“And we thought Gena the Bitch had kidnapped you.”

“Aye, so you know Gena,” Dartemus said with a nod. “Then you’ll be happy to know that she’s facing the wrath of Queen Isabella as we speak.”

“Dude, I’m covered from head to toe in shit and I just got smacked in the gut by Frankenstein here. I’m anything but happy.”

“Cid sorry,” Cid said, thumping him on the back.

“DUDE!”

“Am I to take it your name is ‘Dude’?” Dartemus asked.

“No, man. My name’s Isaac.”

“And I am Mundo,” Dartemus’ opponent said, extending his arm.

Dartemus shook it. “…It’s always a pleasure to meet a fellow Man. I am only sorry that it has to be in a place like this.”

“Tell me about it,” Isaac said. He glared up at Cid, who was a couple heads taller than him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“My name’s Quentin!” Frankie’s opponent cried out. “Do you want to hear me play the flute?”

“No,” they all said.

He started playing anyway.

“…You see what I have to put up with?” Isaac said.

“…Hey, weren’t there four of you?” Dartemus asked.

Mundo looked around. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

They turned around to see the two old men circling each other like two lions about to fight. The old man from the Bucket Brigade was stroking his beard with one hand, warily studying his opponent’s weaknesses, and the other old man had a pipe between his eyes and one eye closed so that he could focus in on his enemy with the other.

“I am like a fine wine,” the first old man said. “I get better with age.”

“And I am like a fine cheese,” the other said, removing his robe. “I get moldy with age, but the French will always accept me.”

“You are speak wisely, old man, but you are a fool.”

“Better a fool who speaks wisely than a wise man who speaks foolishly.”

“What a foolish thing to say.”

“You two can stop now,” Mundo said. “We’re not enemies.”

“I will teach you the power of age!”

“I am for you!”

The old men clashed. It was an epic battle—one that lasted fifteen seconds and featured two men who had outlived their prime and should not wear boxers in public anymore.

The battle would later be named Rocky VII.

“…Well, that’s Grandpa,” Mundo said.

“We didn’t even give our old man a name,” Dartemus said.

They nodded slowly.

“He’s my Grandpa, you know,” Frankie said.

“That’s fantastic, son.”